You know how after you go under anesthesia, you get a discharge paper? And how that discharge paper councils you against driving, operating heavy machinery, or making important decisions for the next 24 hours?

Well just FYI, attending your son’s parent-teacher conference counts as making an important decision.

Mark and I got home from the hospital about an hour before the conference was supposed to start. I didn’t feel great, but I was insistent that I wanted to be there. Luckily, the teacher knew that I’d been in the “hops-pi-tal” because M made sure to tell her ALL about our exciting weekend. And, to be fair, I did warn everyone at the table (since when did parent-teacher conferences start including all the therapists?) that I might or might not still be under the effect of medications when I sat down.

And then M’s teacher brought up potty training and different bathroom scenarios from school and I reciprocated with how it’s going at home, but how we’re having trouble outside of the house, and the speech therapist tried to chalk that up to automatic toilets, and I was trying to explain that it’s not just automatic toilets but any public bathroom because there are, you know, other people in the bathroom and that is scary for him, such that Mark touched my arm and joked “wow! You’re talking about bathrooms even more than M does!” and I realized I had been prattling on and nothing that was coming out of my mouth actually made any sense. Kind of like this paragraph.

So. Yah. There was that.

I think the rest of the meeting went ok though.